


Splurt

by WhoopsOK



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Drunk Sex, Eiffel Tower Position, Emetophilia, Gross, Hangover, Multi, Sort of? - Freeform, Squick, Trans Jack Pattillo, Vomiting, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: Geoff is not getting cock-blocked by nausea.(In which Geoff does not get cock-blocked by nausea because his lovers are gross.)Heed the tags.
Relationships: Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Ryan Haywood/Geoff Ramsey/Jack Pattillo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Splurt

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yeah, this is categorically pretty fucking awful of me to have written, huh? And yet, I wrote it, and here you are, reading this note, probably about to read this story, so, uh… welcome to the dumpster, enjoy your stay.
> 
> Also, disclaimer because RPF: No money was made off this, nobody endorsed this other than my own id. It’s locked for a reason, so let’s not smear the gross around, okay? 
> 
> Also, also, I have literally seen maybe 2 heist videos, I just fell face first into the RT fandom recently and since I have not known peace lmao. If it seems OOC, fine, let’s keep the walls between fiction and reality sturdy, dolls.

Geoff comes to with a throbbing headache and a dizzying wave of nausea, so it takes him a second to realize the sound of the front door opening is what woke him up. Before he can even fully close his hand around his gun, he dimly recognizes the sound of Jack’s keys hitting the counter and the low rumble of Ryan’s voice.

“_Fuck,_” he rasps, letting his face fall back down into the pillow as the room spins dizzily around him.

Be it far from Jack to need a bodyguard, but it’s still nice to have backup; especially when people think The Vagabond is the scarier of the two. By the time Jack is smiling at them, it’s too late to realize they’ve been bracing for the wrong hit. So the cocky fucking upstart crew on the west end is down all of its generals and most of its foot soldiers, too, if Jack’s report is accurate. It was a damn good follow up to Geoff and the other’s making off with $7 million, a money press, and a very well forged Rothko the same night. A _damn _good haul, considering they were down two people.

Still, maybe they’d celebrated a _bit_ too hard.

Right now, Geoff is the kind of hung over that bleeds into still being a little drunk. The feeling of the bed swaying back and forth would probably put him to sleep if it wasn’t making him so motion sick. He’s old enough to have learned his lesson with Everclear, he really, really is. Dozing sickly, he doesn’t even open his eyes when the bedroom door creaks open, until—oh.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Geoff grumbles as Jack slides in between the covers to lay on him, already out of her pants and creeping a hand down his ass.

“I am in a good mood,” Jack agrees and kisses his ear. “You smell like a bar.”

Geoff feels like one, too, sticky and full of far too much motion. “7 fucking million, Jack, I _bought _the bar.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Jack snorts drily, but doesn’t get off him. Geoff feels a squiggle of heat fight through the queasiness when Jack grinds her hips against him, half-hard already. “You done celebrating?”

Geoff half turns towards her, but the sound of a throat clearing behind her stops his response.

Ryan is standing in the doorway. He doesn’t look awkward per say, he has _thoroughly _seen Geoff in more compromising positions, but he does look like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s trying to look Geoff in the eye without looking at them. He’s not quite successful. “You don’t look like you really want a debriefing,” he says, managing an amused smirk at Geoff’s glare. “I’ll head on home then.”

“It’s almost 5am.” Jack sits up before Ryan can make to turn, the motion presses her arousal against Geoff more pointedly. He flexes against her on reflex and she settles a hand in the middle of his bare back. “Do you really feel like making that ride?” she asks Ryan casually.

There’s a pause, because they all know what she’s actually asking.

_Are you staying in the guest room or in here with us?_

Geoff hesitates, which is honestly a rarity in situations like this, but it’s _Jack._

Ryan knows Jack is trans, because Geoff vets his people with extreme and violent prejudice before they ever join his crew, much less his inner circle. But casual acceptance—even with Ryan’s particularly insane version of loyal protectiveness—is different than being presented with the reality of sex with Jack. But—oh.

Geoff’s eyebrows raise, taking in the soft pink that has taken over Ryan’s face, the not-quite-guilty slant of his eyes. _Oh_, he’s already—

“You motherfucker, you couldn’t wait for me?” Geoff snaps glaring at Jack.

Jack arches an eyebrow at him. “I don’t wait for things that belong to us,” she replies and Geoff is abruptly half-hard watching the pink in Ryan’s cheeks blow full on red. He says nothing to correct her. “You got to celebrate, why shouldn’t we?”

Point. Still, “It’s the principal of the thing!” he grumbles. Michael had whiskey dick and Gavin was well on the way to blacking out across Jeremy’s lap.

“I _am _still here, you know,” Ryan says somewhat stiffly. “Unless this is the most roundabout way of getting fired ever.”

Geoff gives him the finger. “Yeah, yeah, so you’re here. Are you staying?”

Ryan looks between the two of them for a long moment, more like he’s waiting for them to change their minds than he’s making up his own. Then he steps in and shuts the door. “What are we doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck Geoff,” Jack says, all pretense of modesty gone as she shoves the blankets off their legs. She sits up, straddling Geoff and grinding her erection against his ass. Her panties are dragging against him, making him shiver, breathing hard and biting his lip. Damned if he’s gonna beg for it with Ryan standing there, though. She smiles at him, before turning to Ryan. “You’re gonna watch until you feel like doing something different.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ryan says, only partly to be cheeky. He steps out of his boots, looking towards the armchair before Geoff flings and arm out to pat the bed beside them.

“Didn’t get a California King not to put it to use, Ry,” he says.

The Vagabond getup comes off, mostly, leaving Ryan lying beside Geoff in his boxers and a too-tight black t-shirt. The front of the boxers is looking pretty damn tight, too, to be honest.

“Like what you see?” Ryan asks, the cocky fucker.

“Can’t see much with that fucking shirt painted on you,” Geoff shoots back as Jack leans over to get the lube. He hears her shove the condoms aside and clenches his fingers in the sheets at the thought of taking her raw. It’s a good thing he’s holding on, because Ryan pulls his shirt over his head before laying back down, muscle and scars right in Geoff’s face. Geoff’s gotta say, he appreciates that in a man. He stops his subtle grinding when Jack’s knees squeeze around his waist and it makes him hiccough.

Jack pauses. “Jesus, you did drink a lot…”

Geoff is not getting cock-blocked by nausea. “Don’t be a cock-tease,” he tells her.

“Your sheets,” Jack mumbles with a shrug, rubbing her hands up his shoulders. “Prep first?”

Geoff thinks about it and Ryan looks surprised, concerned. Geoff smooths a hand down his chest, getting distracted with the warmth of him for a moment. “Nah,” he says, because he doesn’t know when to quit. It’s not the first time they’ve gone straight for it, too impatient to bother with fingers; he knows what he likes. He also knows what kinda mood Jack is in. “I wanna feel it.”

“_Oh,_” Ryan says softly and Jack bends down to bite Geoff’s neck, wiggling out of her panties.

“Remember you said that when you’re walking funny,” she whispers, shifting so she’s between Geoff’s legs, Geoff spreading his knees to accommodate her. He feels sluggish and hot. The room is still spinning, but now there’s arousal tinging everything. Jack is hard and bare against his ass and if she doesn’t fuck him, Geoff is going to have a meltdown.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, looking right at Ryan, getting to see his eyes go gratifyingly dark as he watches Jack slick herself up. His gaze snaps back to Geoff’s when he speaks, “Gonna fuck me good for him?”

Ryan shifts, swallowing. His blush has spread down his chest.

“Oh, he was such a _good_ boy, Geoff,” Jack coos, catching on. She’s careful with her hands, slathering slick down Geoff’s crack as she locks eyes with Ryan. “Even for all the bad things I made him do, all the bad things I made him _say_.”

“Jack…” Ryan’s voice isn’t a warning, but there’s a twist of something nervous and dark in it.

Jack presses against Geoff’s hole and Geoff’s breath shudders out. “Bet he’s got a—_fuck, _a filthy fuckin’ mouth on him, _fuck!_” he exclaims, impatient at Jack’s slow slide. “Jack—” His voice stalls out on a ragged moan when she suddenly snaps her hips forward, sheathing herself in his heat.

“Made him tell me how he’d fuck you,” Jack tells him breathlessly as she leans over his back. She sits back up to claw her shirt off when it gets in the way. She likes feeling him all down her body, skin on skin, fuck that _bra. _He’d laugh as she flings it across the room, but he can’t find the air once she bears down to start fucking him in full, steady strokes. “How he’d let you fuck _him_.”

Geoff knows she’s trying to wind him up, _both _of them, but damn if it’s not an image. Ryan spread out on his knees? No, on his back, no way to cover his face as Geoff dicks him down until he’s a trembling mess of sweat and half-formed words. Then there’s the matter of that one _hell _of a tent in Ryan’s boxers. Geoff wants like hell to reach for it, but he’s too dizzy to coordinate his hands. He feels like he’ll come right off the fucking bed if he lets go. He’s—drooling?

“Fuck those boxers, man, l-lose them,” Geoff stammers out, arching and writhing under Jack, his cock rocking into the steadily growing wet spot underneath him.

“I see you’re bossy here, too,” Ryan says, but shifts to pull his boxers off without looking away from the sight making him hard. He’s already wet at the tip, fuck, he’s got a nice cock.

Jack picks up speed and Geoff groans. Ryan does, too, when she asks, “Should we let him touch himself?”

Geoff goes to answer her, but somewhere between the decision to speak and forming the actual words, his stomach—unhappy with the jostling—rolls uncomfortably. Like _really _uncomfortably. Like it’s rolling and rolling and rolling right up the back of his throat and—

Hauling himself forward is more work than usual with Jack’s weight on his back, but he manages to make it to the edge of the bed.

Ryan, quick as a whip and correctly judging the look on his face, has the trashcan ready when he starts heaving into it. “_Geoff!_ Fuck, man…”

“_Ugh_,” Jack just laughs, slowing but not stopping.

Geoff just belches wetly, coughing and spitting. “_Fuck_ Michael,” he groans, gagging. The seventh shot was a bad idea already, making the eight a double was just fucking _stupid_.

“Literally?” Ryan replies.

“_Fuck you, too, dickhead!!_”

“I mean, if you want.”

“Not right now,” Jack pants, still hard as a rock and fucking Geoff uncaringly. She’s never been bothered by that sort of thing. The sadistic part of her probably got a little tingle off it, the bitch. _Okay, maybe more than a little tingle,_ Geoff considers as she grips his hair and pries his head back. He coughs, drooling sick all down his chin, his _throat._ “Are you calling it, Geoff?”

“_Fuck no,_” Geoff slurs, because in spite of it all, he’s still fucking hard, still so close to coming it damn near hurts. “No,” because if she’s not done with him, he’s not done; damn if that’s not their whole shtick. He loves this filthy shit.

Her delighted laughter is teasing, should probably be humiliating. So should the way she forces his head to face Ryan slightly. “Want his mouth?”

Geoff’s stomach lurches. “If you take it, I’m barfing on you,” he warns.

“Yeah,” Ryan says tightly, to both of them it seems, and _oh._

“You kinky fucker, where were you hiding all this?”

Ryan’s sneer is killed by the way he’s still red-hot in the face, his cock drooling onto the sheets. “Is that a _no_?”

“Did I _say_ no, assh—?” Geoff swallows, spitting up some even when he can’t turn to make sure it doesn’t roll down his face. “If that part is important to you, hurry up.”

Ryan scrambles—_fucking scrambles, _the Vagabond has a _puke_ fetish. He scrambles to get off the bed, wide eyed and choking his own dick. He gets between Geoff and the wall, the trashcan between his legs. His hand replaces Jack’s in Geoff’s hair and his mouth drops open when Geoff starts gagging as soon as Ryan touches his tongue.

“He doesn’t gag often,” Jack says, then doesn’t waste the breath to speak, pounding into Geoff as soon as Ryan’s dick slides into his mouth.

Filled at both ends, Geoff lets himself be handled, even as he feels more vomit coming up. He gurgles out a warning around the hot skin of Ryan’s cock, but Ryan just lets out a high keening sound as Geoff throws up around his arousal. It’s noisy and, frankly, smells like it’s mostly liquor—pretty damn rank.

Were Geoff one for shame, he might feel some when he comes from the feeling of emptying his stomach and getting drilled at the same time, but he’s a hedonist at heart and shame is a waste of fucking time. Gagging and burping around Ryan’s cock, clenching down around Jack’s clit, Geoff practically seizes as his orgasm washes over him.

Faintly, he hears Jack say “Oh, fuck_, Geoff_—” before pressing in close and staying there as she comes. Ryan is much louder above him, but not saying any real words, just groaning and whining as he fucks Geoff’s throat until Geoff heaves one final time and Ryan comes at the exact same moment.

They slump all at once. Jack collapsing flat over Geoff’s back, Ryan falling back against the wall, Geoff letting his head hang when Ryan’s grip eases. He keeps coughing for a minute, Ryan petting his hair and Jack reaching under him to rub his stomach.

“Fuck,” he says, spitting with some finality. He half startles when Ryan reaches for his face, wiping him up with his own shirt. His hands look like they might be shaking as they scrub at his stubble.

Jack kisses his shoulder. “Feel better?”

Geoff reaches for the shirt to blow his nose. “I feel like I just got _fucked,_” he rasps, clearing his throat. He’s pretty sure he’s done puking, though, so there’s that. Also, he just came _pretty spectacularly_ and his head isn’t pounding, so.

“So yeah?” Ryan says, rolling his eyes when Geoff cuts him a glare, chucking his shirt in the garbage. Fuck him, he can afford another one. Geoff ought to know, he’s the one paying him.

“Need a shower,” Geoff answers, then spits. “And to scrub my fucking tongue.” He shudders when Jack pulls out.

“Come on,” she says, patting his hip, indulgently running a thumb over his slick hole. “As much as you paid for it, the shower better have enough space for us.”

It does and then some, even if the steam makes Geoff a little woozy. He _thoroughly _brushes his teeth and spits between his feet while Ryan washes his hair. Jack pauses in her washing to kiss him soundly as soon as he’s done and he hums at her gratefully. She kisses the corner of Ryan’s mouth when he shifts out of the way to let her rinse off. Geoff is half-dozing on his feet, propped up against Ryan who—well, come to think of it, he’s probably pretty damn tired, too.

“Gonna sleep ‘til dark,” Geoff says with a yawn, right against Ryan’s throat.

Ryan reaches to turn off the water, snagging a towel off the rod outside the shower. Geoff isn’t sure whose it is, to be honest. “I pity your circadian rhythm.”

“You make too much money to care about that,” Geoff says, half drying off, not really caring more than he cares about getting back in bed. Fuck, the sheets are probably filthy and it smells like—

There’s a slight warmth to his cheeks when Jack smirks at him. “Fuck you,” he says, starting out of the room without bothering to get dressed. It’s his damn house, he sets the clothing policy.

“Later,” Jack snarks, walks out similarly naked and toweling off her hair. “Guest room?”

“That’s gonna be awful to clean up later,” Ryan warns, but wraps his towel around his waist to follow them. “Future Jack is gonna be pissed at you.”

“Future Jack is going to throw the sheets and the trash can away,” Jack tells him as she crawls into bed with Geoff, this time laying half on his chest. He welcomes her into the crook of his arm grounded under her weight. He really does feel better.

Ryan gets into bed without being asked, gloriously naked even if he doesn’t look _sleepy._ He stares up at the ceiling, a leg tossed out over Geoff’s so his foot is brushing Jack’s shin.

“Can you sleep?” Geoff asks him, because he knows the score. He won’t ask him to stay if their presence will just keep him up. He’s a little surprised by the fond gentleness in the look he gets.

“Yeah,” Ryan tells him, shifting over so their shoulders are pressed together before returning his gaze to the ceiling. “Later.”

That’s good enough for Geoff, far too tired to argue, or even needle him about his newfound kinkiness. Settling in to sleep off his hangover post-fuck is a pretty good trade off.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…know your limits and leave out some water for yourself
> 
> (Unsexy reminders: pee after sex, especially if someone pukes on your dick.)
> 
> Comments are moderated, so if you want to tell me something and don’t want it to be public, scream “DELETE THIS COMMENT, BUT:” or something to that effect.


End file.
